ABSTRACT
My friend,” Fadil the Kurd said to me, grinning broadly, “you must come with us into Afghanistan. We will shoot the Stinger missile together. We will shoot down many Russian planes and helicopters!”
I had met Fadil in the early 1980s. We had kept up our friendship over the years, meeting in Peshawar and Islamabad. Now we were again in Peshawar, which hummed with the excitement of the war next door.
